Атлант расправил плечи
Anti-Life
Sheknewtheinstitutionsofthatkindandthewomenwhoranthem,thewomenwhosaidthattheirswasthejobofhelpingsufferers.
Ifshewentin—shethought,stumblingpast—ifshefacedthemandbeggedthemforhelp,"Whatisyourguilt?"theywouldaskher."Drink?Dope?Pregnancy?Shoplifting?"
Shewouldanswer,"Ihavenoguilt,Iaminnocent,butI’m—"
"Sorry.Wehavenoconcernforthepainoftheinnocent."
Sheran.Shestopped,regaininghereyesight,onthecornerofalong,widestreet.Thebuildingsandpavementsmergedwiththesky—andtwolinesofgreenlightshunginopenspace,goingoffintoanendlessdistance,asifstretchingintoothertownsandoceansandforeignlands,toencircletheearth.Thegreenglowhadalookofserenity,likeaninviting,unlimitedpathopentoconfidenttravel.Thenthelightsswitchedtored,droppingheavilylower,turningfromsharpcirclesintofoggysmears,intoawarningofunlimiteddanger.Shestoodandwatchedagianttruckgoby,itsenormouswheelscrushingonemorelayerofshinypolishintotheflattenedcobblesofthestreet.
Thelightswentbacktothegreenofsafety—butshestoodtrembling,unabletomove.
